


Last Stand

by MALLR4TS



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Flashbacks, Inktober, Memories, Revenge, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MALLR4TS/pseuds/MALLR4TS
Summary: I re-wrote Johns death but made it even more painful.
Kudos: 10





	Last Stand

**Author's Note:**

> this is sad lol sorry
> 
> Twitter and Tumblr are @MALLR4TS

"Our time has passed, John." 

For the first time in a long time, Dutch was right. The era of living on the open road was gone, and the age of civilization was here. Though it seems liars had managed to sneak their way into this age of civilization, as one looked John dead in the eye as he ordered his men to fire. 

Abigail and Jack were quick to bolt back to the ranch, the image of a loving father and husband forever scarred into their memories. But even during his late teen years, Jack still remembers feeling more pain at something his father did minutes before he passed. 

"Hey, come on. Now listen, Jack, darling, Get on this horse. Get out of here, go find a place to hide," John said as he urged his family to mount one of their nags, a wild one that John had only recently tamed. 

"You're coming with us, Pa," Jack replied, seeking reassurance, trying to ignore the lump in his throat and the way his bottom lip twitched.

"I'll catch up. You keep riding and don't look back and don't worry about me, you hear?" John ordered them, holding onto Abigails' hand as she sobbed. 

"You stay out of trouble, John," Abigail told him, knowing what was about to happen, but wishing it didn't have to end this way.

"Ain't no trouble, Abigail. Ain't no trouble. I love you," he said before leaning up and kissing his wife one final time, his heart dropping at the salty taste of tears on her lips. 

"I love you," Abigail told him, holding his hand dearly and slowly letting go. 

"And Jack," John said as he took a step to his left, catching Jack's attention as he turned down to look at his father. 

"You keep this safe for me, alright?" John said as he took off his hat. 

"Pa-" Jack went to protest but stopped himself, letting his tears fall as he dipped his head down, allowing his father to place his signature hat onto his head.

John's hat was still a little too big for him, slipping over his eyes slightly. Jack pushed it back, finding a position where it would stay. His finger brushed past the feather, the same one that John had managed to keep there for years. How it hadn't blown away, Jack will never know. 

Despite Abigails protests, John had taken a very young Jack duck hunting once, leading him down to a lake near where they were camped. Arthur's passing was still a somewhat fresh memory, his first anniversary soon approaching, but John wanted to ensure Jack could hunt from a young age, just in case anything ever happened to him or Abigail. 

He'd helped Jack hold the rifle after plugging some cotton in his ears so the sound wouldn't startle him too much, but let Jack choose when to pull the trigger.

"Nice one, son!" John smiled as he watched one of the ducks fall from the sky.

"What?" Jack had asked, turning to face his father as he pulled the cotton from his ears.

"I said nice one, Jack!" John repeated, swinging the rifle strap over his shoulder as the two of them walked over to collect the duck. 

"Thanks, Pa," Jack replied, stopping a meter away from the duck he'd just shot. "Ewww," Jack said as he looked at the corpse. 

"Yeah, it can be pretty gross," John replied as he crouched down to Jack's height. "So, you don't wanna carry it back then?" 

Jack turned to him, holding his hands together nervously. "I don't wanna touch it," Jack shyly admitted. 

"That's alright, son. How about..." John trailed off as he stood upright and picked up the duck, picking a feather from it and handing it to Jack. "How about you carry this for me then?" 

"A feather?" Jack giggled as he took the feather from his father.

"Yeah. Then we've both carried something back," John explained.

"Alright," Jack replied with a small shrug, following John as the two of them began their journey back to the camp. 

"Pa, I.." Jack muttered though he was unable to find the right words to say. 

"Like I said, you just keep it safe for me," John said as he took a step back, taking one last look at them. "Now go on. Git!" John said as he slapped the horses rear, watching the two of them bolt out of the stables and off to safety. 

The echo that came from the sound of the firing squad can still be heard so vividly in Jack's mind, and the memory of his father's death seems to be playing on repeat. Maybe it's because he was nearing Ross's location, or maybe it's because it had been exactly three years since his father was murdered. But today seemed like the perfect day to do this. 

And it was. 

But even after Ross fell to the floor and his corpse rolled into the lake, Jack still couldn't put his father's death to rest. He had taken his revenge and had much pleasure in doing so, but there was still a burning in his heart and an empty space in his soul. 

Jack climbed up onto his nag and clicked his tongue, quickly heading off before anybody could reach the scene. As he crossed the river and reached New Austin, he noticed the way the sun was beginning to set. The sky seemed redder than usual, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad sign. But what's done is done, and hopefully, Jack will one day be able to accept that.

He really is the last of his kind.


End file.
